"What of the Taker's Eye?" Pacys asked the locathah.

"When Myth Nantar was built," Myrym said, "as I have said, the Coronal gave the eye to the Dukars for safe keeping. They hid it somewhere in the city."

"But Myth Nantar was lost," Pacys said. "That I remember."

Myrym nodded and said, "After the Dukars left, sahuagin warriors stole into the city and murdered the sea elves and merfolk who remained to stand guard. The sea devils destroyed much of the city, but could not stay. The mythal was designed to keep creatures like them out. They soon fled, but in later years, the magical shields around the Academy of the Dukars started growing till they encompassed all of fallen Myth Nantar. The water around the city became impenetrable even to those who built it. Some say it is haunted."

"And what do you say?" Pacys asked.

"Only that the city was properly named, Loremaster. It is the City of Destinies. For the Taker, for you, and for the young warrior you seek. Somewhere in that wreckage is the Taker's Eye, and it holds the key to all your destinies. I have one final gift for you if you will accept it."

"What is that?"

"You asked me in what direction the young warrior you seek lies. These water lilies may hold an answer of sorts for you." The aged locathah held the leaves out to him. "Simply put them under your tongue and think of him."

The bard opened his mouth and put the leaves under his tongue. He pushed the seawater from his mouth and waited. A pleasant tingling sensation numbed the underside of his tongue and his lips.

All at once it felt as if the top of his head exploded, and he was swept away on a cold, black tide.

Black Champion bucked and fought the ocean like a horse trying to keep its head above the waterline. Jherek peered down at the dark, green-black water little more than an arm's reach from the railing. Perhaps only minutes remained before forward progress became impossible for the caravel. Despite the slave ship's loss of two masts, Black Champion was barely closing the last hundred yards to her.

The caravel smashed through another wave. This time the cold seawater swept over Black Champion's deck, drenching the assembled crew in spray. They didn't look hopeful even after the ship surged forward again.

The slaver tried to cut away as Black Champion came abreast, tacking into the wind. If the slaver had flown another sail, Jherek knew the maneuver would have cost them their last chance at overtaking their quarry. As it was, the single remaining sail only offered a token attempt at quickly changing their course.

"Come hard to starboard!" Azla ordered from the forecastle.

Jherek looked up at the half-elf pirate captain with respect. She stood there knowing she was losing her ship, yet she remained inviolate, totally in command.

"What are you thinking, young warrior?" Glawinn asked.

"Look at her," Jherek said. "Aboard a dying ship, about to take on a crew twice the size of hers, yet she knows no fear"

"You don't think she's afraid?"

"Maybe she is," he conceded, "but she overcomes it well."

"Fear isn't necessarily a bad thing, young warrior. It's meant to warn of uncertain situations and concentrate resolve, to give strength to flagging muscles and wings to thoughts. In the end it must be embraced and accepted, not conquered like an enemy blade. Aren't you afraid now?"

"Aye," Jherek said, continuing to watch the pirate captain as she ordered the grappling crew to the railing, "and it shames me."

"I'd rather see you afraid," Glawinn said, "and know that you are truly alive, than to see you the way I have seen you in the past days."

"I have done so many wrong things, made so many mistakes." He glanced at Sabyna, who stood on the forecastle deck with Arthoris and Azla. "I've hurt someone I would never have offered any injury. He turned his attention to the paladin and added, "I've even offended you, who have done nothing but try to help me."

Glawinn smiled, his eyes twinkling, and dropped his mailed hand on Jherek's shoulder. "Young warrior," he said, "if you made no trespasses, who would there be to say you'd ever been by?"

Black Champion smashed through another wave and took a while to right herself. Jherek held onto the railing, balancing himself easily while Glawinn struggled slightly with all his armor on.

"Keep something in mind, young warrior. A hero who has never known fear or want, uncertainty or anger, hunger or loneliness, is no real hero. It isn't their bravery that should impress you. That turns on a moment, marking an event that most people choose to recognize as heroic. It is in the journey that leads up to that moment, the persistence of vision, that makes a man or woman truly heroic. Do you understand?"

"Some of it."

Glawinn patted him on the shoulder. "The rest will come in time. For now we have a ship to take."

Jherek watched as the slave ship drew closer and closer.

The slaver's stern ballista crew swung the large weapon around. Even as they started locking the ballista down and getting ready to fire at Black Champion-a target scarcely more than seventy feet distant-a mass of writhing black tentacles suddenly sprouted from the deck.

The ballista crew turned and tried to flee, but the black tentacles whipped out blindly and wrapped the slavers up, snapping bones and squeezing the life from them. Their screams were lost in the rush of water and wind. The tentacles ripped the ballista from the deck and smashed it into a thousand pieces.

"Azla's mage," Glawinn said.

Jherek nodded and watched as the slaver crew attacked the tentacles with harpoons and swords.

Twisting tongues of flame suddenly ignited in the slaver's amidships. For a moment, Jherek believed the vessel was afire, then the flame blossomed hotter and brighter and shot toward Black Champion.

"Fireball!" one of the pirates squalled. As a man, the boarding crew ducked under the huge mass of roiling flames.

The wizard's casting was slightly off, and the fireball sizzled as it touched the water beside the pirate ship, then exploded into a wall of flames that rushed across Black Champion's deck. Rigging and sailcloth caught fire. Only the water washing over the deck kept it from burning as well.

Arthoris stepped to the edge of the forecastle railing above and extended his hands to the heavens, the sleeves of his robes falling back down his skinny arms. He cried out in a language Jherek didn't understand, his tone at once commanding and beseeching.

Dark clouds spiraled into the sky above the ships, spreading out for miles in all directions. The wind lifted and came howling across the choppy ocean surface. Rigging creaked above, and lanyards that were cracked but not broken through now gave way. A heavy, stinging rain smacked into Black Champion and her crew.

The flames atop the rigging were quickly snuffed.

"Grappling crew!" Azla yelled above the roar of the storm. "Ready on the line!"

The pirates surged forward to the railing again. Jherek stooped and picked up a grappling line, running the rough hemp through his hands. He measured back from the big, three-pronged hook and readied himself to cast.

A giant shape surged out of the water between the two ships. A webbed green foot with great claws slapped against the starboard railing. A huge head at least eight feet across, cut with a grim maw and gold-webbed spines along the back of its neck, followed the foot. Malevolent red eyes glared at the surprised crew. Another foot followed the first, and the great creature tried to drag itself aboard. The neck strained up from the dark green shell on its back.

"Dragon turtle!" a man screamed.

The grappling line crew surged back, breaking away from the deadly creature.